Towards The Mast
We rise to the top of the hulking hill,
There it is, the skyline framed in blue,
A smattering of white around it all,
Tying together a most pleasant view.
I see the mast marking where I must be,
Two whiles it takes to arrive joyful there,
It can be so hard not to wake and run,
As soon as dawn has come, I do so care.